A Wildflower Field for Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, Uniformed Beagles, and Ashtray Exercises: The Latest Claims About Scientology

Three months afterVanity Fair published its Scientology cover story—which shed light on the secret wife-auditioning process that the organization allegedly coordinated to find Tom Cruise a third spouse—a hardcover account of Scientology’s ties with Hollywood is about to hit bookshelves. From Lawrence Wright, aNew Yorker staff writer and Pulitzer Prize–winning author, Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Beliefis “a deep penetration” into the insular world based on more than 200 interviews, with emphasis on the way that the organization (and its chief, David Miscavige) reportedly ensnared Tom Cruise and John Travolta. The Hollywood Reporterhas gotten ahold of an excerpt, which we’ve boiled down into six juicy claims about Cruise and the church, below.

Cruise reportedly “modeled his determined naval-officer hero in 1992’sA Few Good Men on Miscavige, a fact that the Church leader liked to brag about.”

Miscavige heard about the couple’s fantasy of running through a field of wildflowers together, so he had members [of Sea Org, a unit of Scientology] plant a section of the desert with them; when that failed to meet his expectations, the meadow was plowed and sodded with grass. When a flood triggered a mudslide that despoiled a romantic bungalow specially constructed for the couple, Miscavige held the entire base responsible and ordered everyone to work 16-hour days until everything was restored.

Cruise is said to have been trained as a Scientology “auditor” during his marriage to Kidman. When a teenage member whom Cruise was auditing in the late 90s failed a metabolism test, the actor invited him to ride on the back of his Yamaha motorcycle to get bee pollen to boost his metabolism. Another time, Cruise helped him with a Scientology-related exercise involving an ashtray in which the novice “stands and lifts the ashtray, thanks the ashtray and then commands the ashtray to sit down.”

Miscavige is reportedly fond of dressing his canines in bespoke military uniforms.

Miscavige keeps a number of dogs, including five beagles. He had blue vests made up for each of them, with four stripes on the shoulder epaulets, indicating the rank of Sea Org Captain. He insists that people salute the dogs as they parade by. The dogs have a treadmill where they work out. A full-time staff member feeds, walks and trains the dogs and enters one of them, Jelly, into contests, where he has attained championship status.

Scientologists were not that fond of George W. Bush either.

One day, Cruise flew his little red-and-white-striped Pitts Special biplane, designed for aerobatics, to Hemet, along with his Scientologist chief of staff, Michael Doven. Miscavige and Rathbun picked them up and drove them to Gold Base. Rathbun was in the back seat and recalls Cruise boasting to COB about his talks with the secretary.

“Bush may be an idiot,” Miscavige observed, “but I wouldn’t mind his being our Constantine,” referring to the first Roman Emperor to convert to Christianity.

Cruise agreed. “If f--ing Arnold can be governor, I could be president.”

Miscavige responded, “Well, absolutely, Tom.”

(Cruise, through his lawyer, denies this exchange and says he has no political ambition.)

The full excerpt is available in The Hollywood Reporter, while Maureen Orth’s exposé forVanity Fair—“What Katie Didn’t Know”—can be read in its entirety here.